writing – Page 3 – The Countryman's Daughter

No stone unturned

The huge stone trough I spotted in someone’s garden. How did it get there?

The deliberate diagonal markings of the mason’s tool can clearly be seen

Do you remember a while back I wrote about stone masons, and the incredible skills that went into creating the distinctive masonry that features in many homes on the North York Moors? Masons had their own particular way of marking, and the ‘posher’ homes often featured the more labour-intensive herringbone pattern, while more basic patterns were used for less fancy constructions.

I was reminded of those stone masons the other day when I came across a magnificent trough in the back garden of a home near York. I was so captivated by it that it distracted me from the job I was meant to be doing. Thankfully, the clients were interested in hearing what I knew about the markings on the trough. Until I turned up, they’d not considered much about its past and how it had got there.

What initially struck me was the size of the thing. It was between five and six feet long, and about two to three feet wide and the almost same in depth. The internal and external surfaces all featured the distinctive markings made by the stone mason’s tool in a uniform and deliberate diagonal pattern.

It appeared to have been formed out of a single piece of rock because I could not see any joins. I guessed the trough was at least a couple of hundred years old, maybe more, and we all wondered how this huge, heavy beast had got there, if indeed it had ever been transported from elsewhere. The owners said their house was at one time a farm, built in the 1700s, and so it is possible the trough has been in that spot in their garden for up to 300 years.

This is the point where I appeal to those among you who have grown up on ancient farmsteads, or who are familiar with the history of such troughs. I have some questions for you.

– Would the trough have been built from a single piece of masonry?

– If so, how long would it take to hew out all the stone to make such a trough?

– I understand pickaxes were used. Is that true?

– Would it have been built onsite? Or transported from elsewhere? If it was moved, how did they do it in the days before mechanisation?

– This trough has no outlet for water to drain out, so what would it have been used for (It is very deep, so only suitable for big livestock, if indeed that’s what it actually is)?

– Could it be anything other than an ancient water container for animals?

It is one of those occasions where I wish my dad was here, because I am certain he would have been able to answer all those questions. In fact, ancient horse troughs feature heavily in one of his series of books, the Inspector Montague Pluke collection. The eccentric inspector’s hobby, between solving murders, is to seek out and catalogue long forgotten drinking troughs on the North York Moors. I’m sure my dad would have done plenty of research into these often ignored but common features of the landscape. Next time I go home, I will be rifling through his old files!

Before I took over these columns eight years ago, I would have barely given the trough a second glance. But I have learned so much about the lives and traditions of our part of the world, thanks to having to sit down and write them each week, that I’ve found myself appreciating the world around me in a lot more depth. The history, folklore, traditions and skills of our wonderful neck of the woods mean so much more to me now. It really is a blessing, and I must not only thank my dad (for if it wasn’t for his passing, I would not be doing this), but also all of you who continue to read my columns, and who get in touch to help me solve my little mysteries. Your contributions play such an important role, for without them, much of this stuff would be forgotten. Who knows if the following generations will ever be interested, but unless we put our memories down in writing, they will be lost forever.

So, from me to you, please accept a great big THANK YOU!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 11th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 9th April 2025

Who’s going to watch over us?

Dad signing books in the garden wearing his silver watch

Dad having a cuppa a few years later wearing his smart gold watch

Following my story a couple of weeks ago about some friends who were reunited with lost possessions, Michael Brown from Stokesley got in touch with his own tale. If you recall, one friend, Aisling, thought her diamond wedding earrings had been stolen, only to have them given back to her 10 years later after they’d been found in an old jacket pocket. Another friend, Stefan, was reunited with his smart suit jacket after it had been accidentally donated to the school fair and sold for 50p. Stefan bumped into the new owner wearing it on the street who sold it back to him for 50p.

Michael’s story centres around a Christmas party for members of the National Federation of Retail Newsagents. As District President, Michael was invited to the Newcastle branch’s party in Ponteland one year. He’d been planning to drive back home afterwards but was worn out after a long and tiring journey and on top of that, the weather was awful. Having learned that the pub did not have accommodation, the evening’s host, Richard, offered him a room in his home for the night.

Richard and his wife Karen were very warm hosts and provided Michael with most of what he needed for the night, including a dressing gown.

Michael explains: “The next morning, I slipped on the dressing gown and discovered a watch in the pocket. Reaching the kitchen, I presented my find to Karen. She was overjoyed. Although not hugely valuable, the watch held a lot of sentimental value as it was her grandmother’s and had been missing for quite some time.”

Whenever Michael sees Richard and Karen now, they reminisce about the occasion and Karen’s unexpected reunion with her grandmother’s long lost watch. “That evening has created a special bond between us,” says Michael.

What a lovely tale, with serendipity playing a vital part, as it so often does in stories like this. So many variables had to slot into place to enable Stefan to get his jacket back, for Aisling to recover her earrings and for Michael to discover Karen’s watch. She may never have otherwise found it had she not offered the dressing gown to Michael on his impromptu stopover. Perhaps from above, Grandmother had been influencing the way all the chips fell so that her watch and her granddaughter could be happily reunited.

It makes me wonder how many people still wear watches? I haven’t had one for years and have not missed it because there are so many clocks surrounding me, on my phone, in the car, on household appliances. Having a clock hanging on the kitchen wall that the whole family rely on is no longer necessary thanks to the electronic gadgets at our fingertips.

There’s a fair few of us who will have watches that have been passed down through the generations though. My dad used to wear his own dad’s timepiece, although in later life, a smart gold one replaced it.

A couple of weeks ago, I asked you which is the one item you’d save from a fire and wondered if you’d be practical – like a passport; or valuable – like jewellery; or sentimental – like photos. If I had to choose one of the two watches I mentioned above I’d probably save my dad’s rather than Grandad’s because I remember him wearing it with much pride and therefore has more sentimental value to me. It is a hard choice, though, and I have no doubt that I wouldn’t get rid of either unless I really had to.

Harbouring of items of sentimental value is the reason I have a garage that is still full of boxes I have not unpacked; boxes that contain a load of stuff I cannot bring myself to throw away and yet cannot face sorting out either. How does one make the decision to throw away hundreds of letters sent between myself and my best friend, or my parents, or my siblings? They become even harder to let go once the writer has passed away. But they are in a box, and unlikely to be read by anyone except me, and only now and then. What the heck do I do with them?

It makes me ask again, what you might save from a fire if you had to choose but one item?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 21st March and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 19th March 2025

Out of the fire

Betty McDonald on holiday in Southern Spain last year. She has kept diaries since she was young

I’ve had some more feedback from readers on the subject of photographs. Betty MacDonald, who will turn 90 this year (I hope you don’t mind me mentioning that, Betty!) writes: “I have many photographs from years gone by, and memories of sending them off to be developed and printed, and especially onto slides…we used to have many an evening watching a slide show.”

She adds: “I’ve kept diaries for decades, which I enjoy writing, and call my ‘reference library’. I can look up what I did 50 years ago on any given date. These are for me only. I have mentioned to my daughter when the time comes to find a spot in the garden and burn them all, although this might not be possible as I fear the fire brigade might have to be in attendance!

“Queen Elizabeth kept a diary and at 6 o’clock every day she sat down to write in it. So I feel as though I have been in good company…I’ve enjoyed my time with all of my collections of stuff over the years, but nothing is forever.”

Betty’s daughter send me a sweet note about her mother too: “She’s a fantastic mam and nana, always has an interesting story to tell and has such a happy outlook on life.” And at the end she added: “P.S. I won’t burn the diaries!”

Do many people still keep daily diaries? My gut tells me not, because everything is so ‘visual’ today that it is rare to find someone who takes the time to sit down and write about their day. I did it when I was a teenager, and when I was away on a gap year in the mid-1980s. I also wrote diaries when I went travelling in South-East Asia because my dad said I would regret it if I didn’t. They came in useful on my return when the newspaper I worked for asked me to do a series of travelogues about each country I visited. It would have been impossible without the diaries, and so I was very grateful for my dad’s advice.

I occasionally look back upon them now with an understanding of why it was so important to keep a contemporaneous record. There is so much detail that I would never have remembered, and they take me back to a time when I was young and carefree. The 1980s don’t seem that long ago, and yet so much has changed since then that they make a fascinating read. They may not mean much to anyone else, but perhaps my children will one day find them interesting.

Alan Graham also got in touch to say: “I always read your piece and was interested in the recent topic of printing photos. Like others I rarely if ever print photos nowadays but I do print and enlarge those that are good, clear and of lasting interest…and mount them in a traditional photo album, the sort with blank pages and a sheet of tracing paper between…Double-sided sellotape is all that’s needed on the back and they never come adrift, even decades later. A short typed label under each photo (who, where, when) adds a permanent memory.

“I’ve got precious pictures of my daughter growing up, my wife, even my cars and motorbikes going back 40 years and these albums are the things I’d save – as they say – in a fire.”

And that prompts me to ask, what would you save from a fire? Would it be something practical like your passport, or something valuable, like your jewellery? Or like Alan, would it be pictures of your loved ones?

For me, the material stuff means nothing, but there are certain things that cannot ever be replaced, such as signed copies of my dad’s books, handwritten letters from loved ones from years ago. I also have a large collection of birthday and Mother’s Day cards that my children have sent me every year since they were able to write and in which they have written very special messages that I never want to lose.

But, as Betty says, we cannot take everything with us, can we. So if you had to choose just one item to save, what would it be and why? Do get in touch via my contact page to let me know.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 14th March and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 5th March 2025

Friend thrown a life jacket

Stefan’s expensive work jacket was accidentally sold at the school fair

Last year I wrote several columns about things people had lost, things they had found, and about St Anthony to whom the faithful pray if they need help finding a misplaced item.

That subject cropped up again recently when I was on a ramble with my friend Jane and she told me a couple of remarkable stories that I felt I had to share.

Jane and her neighbour Aisling get on with each other very well, attend each other’s parties, exchange birthday gifts and such like. They also swap items of clothing, if they find they are not wearing something but think the other might like it. One such item was a jacket that Aisling gave to Jane several years ago. Although Jane liked the jacket and placed it in her wardrobe, it stayed there unworn for a long time. Finally, a few weeks ago while planning for a night out, Jane remembered the jacket and thought it would go very well with what she wanted to wear. She dug it out and tried it on to see if it suited. Instinctively she put her hands in the pockets and to her surprise, found there was something left inside one of them.

Pulling it out, she discovered it was a pair of beautiful diamond earrings. Astounded, she immediately took them round to show Aisling. Her neighbour was also astounded – and delighted. She revealed that they were the pair of very expensive earrings she had worn on her wedding day and which had been lost for at least 10 years.

Aisling and her family used to live in Singapore, and while there, they employed a cleaner. She explained to Jane that after a while, they began to suspect the cleaner of pilfering things. They had no evidence to prove it, but to be on the safe side Aisling began to hide her most precious pieces of jewellery in the pockets of the clothes hanging in her wardrobe. The problem was, over time she forgot what she had put where, and by the time they moved back to England a few years later, she had completely forgotten that she had hidden her wedding earrings in a jacket pocket. For more than 10 years, she had lived in the belief that her treasured earrings had been taken by the cleaner and that she would never see them again (to be fair, the cleaner had almost certainly stolen other items, so it was not an unreasonable assumption to make). To get them back after so long was an absolute and unexpected joy.

A similar story involved Jane’s husband Stefan. Jane’s and my own children went to the same primary school which held regular fairs and jumble sales. These occasions were good excuses to declutter our wardrobes and pass on any unwanted toys and bric-a-brac.

One year as one such fair was approaching, Jane had a good declutter and filled up the car with jumble, putting a pile of unwanted coats on the back seat before dropping them off at school.

A few days later, her husband was preparing to leave for a business meeting, and asked if she had seen his smart jacket.

“Where did you last have it?’ asked Jane

“I left it on the back seat of the car.”

You can imagine Stefan’s choice response when he discovered that his expensive tailored jacket had been sold for a song at the school fair. Jane had unknowingly scooped it up with the other coats on the back seat and handed it over with the rest of the jumble. They both assumed Stefan would never see his jacket again, and Jane was banished to the dog house.

But the story does not end there. Later that week, tempers having cooled, the couple were out for a walk when they noticed a stranger walking towards them. He was wearing a very familiar item of clothing.

Stefan, being a lot braver than I would have been, stopped the man and asked about the fine jacket he was wearing. The man confirmed he had picked it up from the local school fair for 50p.

With a bit of astute negotiating, and offers of giving the man back the 50p, Stefan and his jacket were happily reunited.

Do you have any stories of unexpected reunions?

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 28th Feb and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 26th Feb 2025

Seeing the bigger picture

Clare Powell has photo books printed at the end of each year as a legacy for future generations.

My column about family photos a couple of weeks ago sparked quite a discussion. I was concerned that most of us have stopped printing pictures stored on mobile devices like phones and tablets. Would these photos be lost to future generations who don’t have the passwords to access them?

Mary Raynar has a solution to that problem: “I get mine printed every month, otherwise they don’t get looked at. It’s my job in the winter months to put them into albums. It is much more pleasurable than scrolling on the phone.”

I’m impressed that Mary diligently does that every month. I had always planned to get back to sorting the photos on my iPad, but then so many years have passed now that the job has turned into a monster. If you don’t keep on top of it like Mary, that is the problem.

Liz Davidson confesses that she has lots of old family photos that have not been put into albums. “My sons will have no idea who all these people are. We keep saying we will sort them out one day.”

And that is at the heart of the issue. If the physical photos do not have names, places and dates written on the back, those who look at them in the future will have no idea who it is, what they were doing, or where they were taken. Recording these small details is so important for our descendants to piece together their family’s roots.

Clare Powell is one of those ‘old school’ people who still has her photos printed: “My first grandbaby is due in April and I will be printing pictures. I have framed photos all over the house.”

I stropped printing out my photos and putting them into albums in about 2012 and I do regret it. But Clare has a great solution: “My friend said she waited to the end of the year, then selected a few from each month to make a photo book for the year. I made my first one in 2012 and have made one every year since. Waiting to the end of the year focuses your mind and you get good at editing…During Covid I re-did all my old photo albums and as I had over 40 it was quite a task. As I did it I was conscious that this was a legacy and a lot of the pictures would mean nothing to my children…I always label them so they will know who’s who.”

Photo books come with your pictures already printed in the book, which is a lot less effort than physically putting individual snaps into albums. Clare’s have evolved into diaries in which she writes a review of the year, with captions and dates.

Lynn Catena admits: “I haven’t printed any photos off my phone for ages, although I really think I should print some of my grandsons.”

She adds: “During the Covid lockdown I wrote a ‘to do’ list and going through photos was somewhere on it. I did cull many photos and negatives when I downsized my house 7+ years ago although lately I’m just trying to label those I have on my phone…there’s a picture of someone’s baby… now I’m wondering who it is!”

Lynn Catena thinks she should at least have some of the photos of her grandsons she keeps on her phone printed out, including this one of Cal, born just a few weeks ago.

Lucien Smith has another suggestion: “I do at least print out my Facebook posts using Pastbook, which pops up at the end of each year. Other than that, I don’t print them out.”

Caroline Newnham no longer prints them either: “I’ve stopped getting them printed as there are so many. My husband would print them all but where would they go? We already have boxes of photos in the loft…I’ve made a start on a regular yearbook…It concentrates the mind on the big moments of the year. The first was in 2023 and is great to look back over. It wasn’t cheap and took quite a bit of time and effort but is the way forward I think.”

Neil McBride says: “We often discuss the idea. That’s as far as it gets. Great idea printing an annual.”

Whichever way we want to preserve our memories, whether in print or digitally, these comments show that it is clear still that we need plenty of time to do it.

And how many of us have enough of that?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 21st Feb and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 19th Feb 2025

A doze of the flew

Lemsip is helping me keep on top of my symptoms of the flue flew FLU!

When I took over writing this weekly column from my dad in 2017, I was aware that it came with a number of burdens. Firstly, to step into my dad’s shoes, which are substantial, secondly, to do that every single week for 52 weeks a year, and thirdly, to keep coming up with interesting stuff to write about.

Fulfilling those requirements becomes even more difficult when you are feeling below par. As I write this, I am laid low with my third fluey bug in as many months. The first was definitely the worst, with me confined to bed for three full days, unable to do much more than make a cup of tea without feeling like I’d just run a marathon. The second was similar, but I was confined to bed for just the one day. This time, I don’t think it is as bad, but I have been full of cold and sneezing for several days now, yet still able to carry on as normal. I went to bed last night thinking that by today (day 4) I would be beginning to get better, only to find I woke up feeling like a limp dishrag. Motivation and inspiration are staying well away, clearly afraid of the germs lingering in the air.

It is at times like these when I am more grateful than usual for readers getting in touch with their own stories and comments because it means I can shamelessly use what they send me to fill column inches.

This week it is Albert Elliot from Castleton who, in my time of need, has come galloping to my rescue. He writes: “I was amused to read (last year!) the comments in your article in December on spelling mistakes. I wondered if you had ever seen this piece of doggerel that I picked up somewhere many years ago (see below)?

“In the early days of computers, before predictive text, spellcheckers were used, or so I understand (I am not particularly computer literate). I think it quite amusing. I still struggle with correct spelling myself and often make blunders, although I don’t like predictive text systems as they ‘jump the gun’ and get in the way! As far as I know the piece is by that famous author called ‘Anon’.”

This is the poem that Albert sent me, and it did make me chuckle because it is very clever and takes me back to the early days of PCs and Microsoft Word. Ahh things were so much simpler then (were they?).

Spell-cheque

I halve a spelling chequer

It came with my pea sea

It plainly marques four my revue

Miss steaks I do knot sea

Eye strike a quay and type a word

And weight four it too say

Weather eye I am write or wrong

It shows me strait a weigh

As soon as a missed ache is maid

It nose bee fore two long

And eye can putt the error rite

It’s rare lea ever wrong

Eye have run this poem threw it

I am shore your pleased two no

The spelling’s perfect awl the weigh

My chequer tolled me sew!

As this poem demonstrates, and as those who have been caught out more recently by Autocorrect understand, it is never a good idea to rely on technology to do work you really ought to do yourself – that is to check your copy and messages before you send them to anyone else. Otherwise it could be very embarrassing indeed.

Albert also recalled a time when he met my dad: “Your father, Peter Walker, kindly came along to my writers’ group (the Egton Bridge Writers Group – still in full vigour and of which I remain a member) and gave us an interesting talk on himself and his writing career…Although this was a long time ago, I remember the talk was fascinating and thoroughly enjoyed by the whole group. He has left a lasting legacy with his Heartbeat stories and other Yorkshire writings.”

I never tire of hearing about tales involving my dad, many of which I would never know if people didn’t get in touch.

So very many thanks to Albert, and on that note, I’m off back to bed with a Lemsip. Normal service will, I hope, resume next week.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 24th Jan and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 22nd Jan 2025

Time to make decisions

Horacio Romeo’s beloved antique mirror has to stay in Buenos Aires, Argentina, because it is too big to bring to his current home in Brazil.

Following my column about the Hugh Pannell clock owned by Arkansas-resident Sandra Parkerson, David Severs has been in touch. David is a descendant of the 18th century Northallerton clockmaker and was able to provide some useful historical context about it. If you recall, the grandfather clock has been in Sandra’s family for more than 200 years, but she is looking to find it a home because it will be too big to take to a new apartment.

David is compiling a record of Pannell’s work and explains that it is unusual to find ‘CLOCK & WATCH-MAKER’ engraved on the name boss. “This is very rare indeed and to find yet another Pannell example is exciting,” he says.

He explains that Sandra’s walnut case is not original: “I have found well over a hundred Hugh Pannell clocks and not one is in a walnut case.” Most of Pannell’s clocks were in cases of mahogany, oak or pine. David has found only one pine example due to the wood not being durable, and mahogany is also quite rare because he would have had to transport it by cart from west coast ports such as Liverpool, which was far more costly than a readily available oak case. Mahogany cases were the preserve of the wealthy, and housed Pannell’s finest pieces. They became more common once the rail network reached Northallerton in 1841, well after Hugh Pannell’s time. Oak cases with mahogany veneer were known as ‘typical Yorkshire cases’ in 1774 when Pannell was working.

David says about Sandra’s clock: “The decoration on the pediment is not something I have seen over here and the split trunk door is also new to me. It is possible that the clock mechanism alone was sent to the USA and then placed into Sandra’s mahogany case upon arrival.”

David adds: “I have found that some 30% of Hugh’s surviving clocks are now marriages which is perhaps not surprising given that it is 236 years and more since he was making clocks…I am aware of his clocks in California, Florida, New Orleans and San Francisco as well as this one in Arkansas. Clocks by his son Joshua…have found their way to Iowa and California and one of his watches to Florida.”

This brings me on to the subject of what to do with meaningful objects you have collected in your lifetime.

Regular reader Clare Powell says: “I inherited my dad’s grandfather clock…and decided to sell it later on. You get nothing for them at auction, nobody wants or has the room for them, even old ones. But I discovered it was handmade by a company in Somerset and he had paid £3,500 for it. I couldn’t bring myself to sell it for £150, so I am still stuck with it!”

In a previous column I mentioned a small wooden box my grandad gave me which I hope one of my sons will keep. Clare explains that the thought of what to do with all her family heirlooms keeps her awake at night: “I am not sure we should burden the next generation with all our ‘stuff’. If you tell them why everything means so much to you, will they feel ridden with guilt if they are not able to keep it all? Then again, if you don’t tell them, then they may wish they did know the story of certain items, like you and your box.”

Horacio Romeo from Brazil, who contacted me through my web page (countrymansdaughter.com), has a similar problem to Sandra in that he has a beautiful mirror that is too big for his current abode: “I love it and enjoy looking at it when I go to Buenos Aires (Argentina) but bringing it here is out of the question.”

Leni Ella says: “My nana used to say, ‘If you want it, put your Monica on it’, the only way you could bagsy something in her house.” (I am assuming Nana meant ‘moniker’ and ‘Monica’ is a family joke!).

My aunt, Liz Davidson, revealed that she has a family heirloom: “I have a crocheted white bedspread that came from my dad and one of his aunties I think. It’s very heavy when you put it on the bed.”

There is only so much the following generation will want to keep so what, I wonder, will happen to grandad’s bedspread?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 17th Jan and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 15th Jan 2025

Permission to be curmudgeonly

Reader Deborah Steed went to school with my late sister Tricia, whose anniversary it is this week (8th January)

I have received some interesting feedback following my pre-Christmas columns about the annoying misuse of certain words, as well as ‘autocorrect’ changing words into something you don’t mean at all.

A reader I only know as ‘vibrant50770a0070’, who contacted me through my countrymansdaughter.com webpage, stated: “One of my annoyances is the use by weather forecasters (and others) of ‘A month’s worth of rain fell.’ What is a month’s worth of rain? Surely the correct use of the English language would be to say ‘The equivalent of a month’s rain fell’. The spelling and use of words in the English language is now appalling, as can be found in such places as Facebook, etc. I am a retired police officer, now in my nineties, so I think I can be permitted to be a curmudgeonly old codger, but I think that the decline of the English language over the years is very sad.”

Having achieved that significant age milestone ‘vibrant50770a0070’ has the right to be as curmudgeonly as he wants. Having said that, what some see as a ‘decline’ in the English language, others see as ‘evolution’. I’m still not sure upon which side of the fence I fall.

Monica Gantz, a writer and blogger who lives in the USA, also contacted me through my webpage saying: “Autocorrect has gotten out of control. It used to be spot on with its correction. I admit to typing and almost hitting ‘send’ when I decide to re-read my post and in horror, similar to your examples, find that autocorrect substituted a terrible word in my sentence. It’s a great reminder to RE-READ before pressing ‘send’.

I read my copy countless times before sending it, only to discover that when it is printed, a silly typo has slipped through. It drives me nuts but happens because my brain tricks me into seeing what I want, rather than what is actually on the page. A regular one is ‘their’ when I mean ‘there’. I know which is right of course, but sometimes in the speed of typing, I pop the wrong one in. I will have read over it lots of times without spotting the error, only to see it once the final version is out in public. It makes me so cross with myself!

You might recall that in my Christmas column I brought up the fact that a common festive ‘autocorrect’ error is spelling ‘Santa’ as ‘Satan’ and it jogged a couple of regular readers’ memories about taking children to see the big man in the red suit.

Clare Proctor, who works at various properties owned by the National Trust, said: “Having observed my colleagues grapple with children (and, even worse, parents) whilst corralling them to visit the Santa’s grotto we used to do at work, Satan might not have always been a mistake!”

And on a similar theme Janet Pearce added that she had a bad experience sitting on an elderly priest’s lap as a child. “I did not want my children sitting on old strangers’ laps! Satan seems quite appropriate.” I can relate to that because as a very young child similar was done to me on a number of occasions by an elderly neighbour. It was only as an adult that I realised that what he had done was wrong. It is such a shame that something that should be a magical experience for our children has been tainted by a few disgusting men taking advantage of innocence.

Before Christmas I also wrote about the fact that on the first anniversary of my friend Ian’s mum’s death, we thought it hilarious when he’d received a message from a close friend. She had been crushed with embarrassment when she realised she’d written ‘Thinking about your dead mum’ instead of ‘dear mum’.

Deborah Steed said the story made her giggle because it reminded her of an occasion where she had met up with some old classmates. Her friend was grieving the recent loss of her pet dog and said to Deborah: “Now I understand why you didn’t feel like coming to the last school reunion after your dog had just died.”

She was mortified when Deborah said: “No, that was my dad. The dog is still alive and kicking.”

Coincidentally, Deborah went to school with my sister Tricia, who died seven years ago this week, which is a great excuse to use the picture accompanying this column. I’ll leave the closing words to Deborah:

“Thinking of Tricia as I read this. She was a lovely girl.”

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 10th Jan and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 8th Jan 2025

Will Satan come down the chimney?

Will Satan or Santa come down your chimney this Christmas?

I had a message from a reader that made me titter. Jean McKendree said: “Regarding your column on spelling errors that get people’s backs up; mine (though I also have to laugh when I see it) is when people write, “Please bare with me,” to which I reply, “I would really rather not.”

This brings to mind those awkward occasions when you fail to properly proofread an email or text message and send something that has an embarrassing mistake in it. With more and more people switching to messaging rather than speaking on the phone, I’m sure it happens a lot, especially since the dawn of ‘autocorrect’, a function which decides what it thinks you want to say, but which is often some way away from your intentions.

A famous one came from a father who texted his son to say, “Your mum and I are going to Divorce next month”. The shocked son was relieved when he quickly received a follow-up text to say “DISNEY! I meant DISNEY!”

One that I experienced myself came on the first anniversary of the death of my friend Ian’s mum. We were on a walk in beautiful Givendale in the Yorkshire Wolds, her favourite place, when a text came through from a close friend. “Thinking of your dead mum,” it read.

“That’s a bit blunt,” said Ian, puzzled, because this friend was normally so gracious and polite. Before he could react any further, the phone rang, and I could hear her apologising desperately down the phone: “DEAR MUM!” she cried, “I meant your DEAR MUM!” We both found it completely hilarious, and were very grateful to her, because for the rest of what would have been a rather sad day, we kept collapsing into fits of giggles.

Other corkers blamed on autocorrect include: “You have my full condoms” (condolences), “Your dog Dexter is dead” (ready), “Sent with love and fried shrimp” (friendship), “Okay donkey” (okey-dokey).

Thankfully, most messaging services now offer you the opportunity to edit your messages after you have sent them, so you do have a chance to correct them if something erroneous sneaks through (although you have to be really quick to catch them before the receiver reads them).

At the moment, there is a fair amount of debate around the topic of AI (Artificial Intelligence) and whether we should be worried about its power or embrace it. Clearly it is being used in both negative and positive ways, but I did love the story about Daisy, the ‘AI Granny’, who has been tripping up ruthless phone scammers who target the old and vulnerable to steal their money. She is driving them crazy with her daft questions, meandering monologues and delaying tactics. She is a joint enterprise between O2 and YouTube ‘scambaiter’ Jim Browning and is on duty 24/7 intercepting fraudulent calls and taking revenge on people who thoroughly deserve it (give her a Google if you want to see her in action).

On the AI theme, I did see one message that read: “Just tried to type ‘probably’ and autocorrect turned it into ‘peanut uterus’. Don’t think AI is taking over anytime soon.”

It has just dawned on me that this is my last column before Christmas. I love seeing all the lights, decorations, and trees going up to mark the festive season, and when the days are short and the weather is as miserable, it lifts the spirits no end. But it is a time of mixed feelings for many. In 2017 we were bracing ourselves for our first Christmas without my dad, when my sister was unexpectedly diagnosed with cancer. Christmas took second place to hospital visits, and she died in the first week of January 2018. Seven years on, I have found happiness in Christmas once more, but that experience means I am mindful of those who are in hospital, those missing lost loved ones, or those spending Christmas with no-one at all.

So with that in mind, I am sending my thoughts and good wishes to you all at this very special time of year, and will leave you with a festive autocorrect classic:

“Taking the kids to see Satan now.”

“Well, I know they’re not perfect but that’s a bit harsh.”

“SANTA!! I MEAN SANTA!”

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 20th Dec and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 24th Dec 2024

Mic drop for a windbag

Have you heard people drop their ‘N’s’, for example when they ask for ‘a apple’? Do you do it?

I do enjoy hearing from you in response to my columns as it proves to me that for one, you read them and for two, the topics spark thought and comment. I do not mind if you get in touch to praise, correct or criticise, I welcome everything!

I received a lovely email from reader Rosemary Scott who said: “I wanted you to know how much I enjoy your columns, and I look forward to them every week. I was particularly taken by your ‘Perverse Experience’ of October 23rd 25th because I have been waging a silent war against all those people who misspell the word ‘faze’. This word I have always taken to mean to ‘daunt’ or to ‘challenge’ someone. I keep seeing it spelled as ‘phase’, and this annoys me very much. I finally checked my 1972 Chambers dictionary, which is possibly past its ‘use by’ date, and was shocked to find that they spell ‘faze’ as ‘feeze’ and it means to ‘worry, perturb or discompose’, which more or less agrees with my thinking. However, to my dismay, I saw that the American spelling can be ‘phase’, which means I can no longer silently shout at those I believed to be sinners. I can’t tell you how chagrined and disappointed I was.”

I empathise because I felt just the same when I discovered that ‘perverse’ can mean the same as ‘perverted’, despite thinking that they were two very different things. For no justifiable reason, I had wasted years’-worth of hot air maligning people who mixed them up.

It heartens me to know I am not alone in my little irritations over the usage of certain words. I looked up faze/phase in my 2004 Oxford English Dictionary (OED) and in that edition there are two distinct definitions. ‘Phase’ (both verb and noun) refers to a set period of time, and ‘faze’ (which only appears as a verb) means ‘disconcert’, although it does say it is of US origin from the 19th century. My 2004 OED does not show ‘phase’ to mean ‘disconcert’ at all and it is only defined in the way Rosemary describes, so she is in fact right (even though she wasn’t back in 1972, according to her own Collins dictionary). I also consulted a few online dictionaries which are as up-to-date as you can get and I could not find ‘phase’ used to mean ‘disconcert’ anywhere. Hurrah for Rosemary after all!

Rosemary has a second irritation: “Another pet annoyance is that ‘an’ no longer seems to exist in spoken vocabulary. The efforts people go to to say ‘ay apple’, for example, instead of the much easier to pronounce ‘an apple’.”

That is not something that I have noticed in my everyday interactions, so I’d be interested to know if any of you have spotted this gradual erosion of ‘an’. If you try to say nouns and adjectives beginning with a vowel without using ‘an’ it does feel cumbersome: ‘Ay aeroplane’, ‘a elephant’, ‘ay orange, ‘a exceptionally gifted columnist’. No, it just doesn’t sit right, does it.

But, as we know, language evolves over time, and things that we think are wrong now might very well become right once they worm their way into everyday speech. If they are then repeated many times they evolve into an acceptable part of written English too, eventually ending up on the hallowed pages of the Oxford English Dictionary (OED), the definitive record of the English language.

I was surprised to learn that the OED is revised four times a year in March, June, September and December, which demonstrates just how quickly our language evolves. The latest (at the time of writing) was September 2024 and new words and phrases that were added this time include ‘boop’ (to tap someone on the nose in a friendly way), ‘to cheap out’ (buy something of inferior quality), ‘cyberstalk’ (harass a person online), ‘mic drop’ (to drop, or mimic dropping, a microphone after a success), ‘prags’ (financial or material aid given to a person in need) and ‘sheisty’ (shifty behaviour). These are just a few of no less than 600 words and phrases added in the latest quarter.

I hope you don’t accuse me of my favourite though, which is ‘windbagging’ (talking or writing at length without saying anything of interest).

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me via the ‘Contact’ tab at the top right of this page.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th Dec and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th Dec 2024